Impermanence -Roxie

IMPERMANENCE

I live on the Gulf Coast of Texas right in the bend before it straightens out and meanders down to Mexico. The people are small town friendly and it has been a real eye opener for someone who moved from the capital of Texas, Austin, where the traffic is heavy and the people aren’t as friendly as they once were. I like the friendliness in Rockport. And I like the size of the town. Running errands here as compared to Austin still gives me a thrill. I can do in an hour what used to take me three in Austin. Nice.

Our home is beautiful – truly it is. We moved down here and built our “dream” home and a dream it is. I pinch myself sometimes just to make sure I’m awake. Every day I walk over to the back window and look at the bay view and thank the stars, God, my guardian angels, and whoever will listen, for my blessings.

I just have one problem living here – hurricanes. Did you know that hurricane season is six months long? From May 1 to October 31. I didn’t realize that before we moved lock, stock and barrel down here. What a dummy not to have done that kind of research before moving to a coastal town, huh? That’s me – jump in and just do it before thinking it through! Will I ever learn? Probably not.

We go to Big Sky, Montana for the most active hurricane months, August and September. We pack up the things we just simply don’t want to lose, art and photos, things like that, and take them to a climate controlled storage facility in Austin where they don’t have hurricanes (probably the most endearing thing to me about Austin at this point). We put hurricane shutters up, bring in the outdoor furniture, we actually pretend a hurricane is imminent and make the place as wind and water proof as we possibly can.

I am packing things today and I had to tell you how I feel. It’s heart wrenching. The impermanence of things is inevitable. A true lesson in Zen Buddhism is that attachment to things is bad. How do we not do it? As I walk around my living room I pick up a vase or a trinket that really didn’t cost very much but it’s been around for so many years – should I pack it? Is it replaceable? Is that photo somewhere digitally so I can recreate it? What about that cute frame it’s in – should I just wrap it all up and put it in the box? Some things are obvious and we already have boxes labeled and with bubble wrap in them to just wrap up and take to Austin. It’s those little things that make up a lifetime that are hard for me. It’s the structure of our home, all the time consuming choices we made that make up so much more than just a house, the tile, Zodiac counters, the color of the walls, the custom made cabinets, even the plumbing fixtures and lighting - all of these things could vanish while we are away. What would I do? Would we rebuild? Could I go through that again? It was a year and a half of grueling torture – that’s what it was.

Impermanence – nothing lasts forever – not concrete, not stucco, not those pieces of paper with so many loved ones' faces imprinted, nothing – not even our own bodies last forever. Impermanence is the only thing that lasts.

CHUCKles

When you’re sitting on the toilet with a pail between your knees
And the sweat is sitting on your brow like dew
You don’t worry much ‘bout dinner or the dog that’s full of fleas
The only thing you worry ‘bout is you

As you shiver in your thinker’s pose, your pants down past your knees
And your body’s shaking like an leaf aflutter
You don’t worry much ‘bout laundry or the dying off of bees
You just wonder why your legs have turned to butter

And you’re slowly being emptied and the sounds are sounds from hell
And the whole damn neighbourhood knows you’re not well –
But your husband’s home from work now, and you hope he’ll get you pills
That will stop you chucking, pooping, sweating, shivering with chills

But no that just won’t happen, instead he yells upstairs
And wonders what the hell you’re doing there
“Come down and get my supper, that‘s the least that you can do
You’ve only got a little touch of flu.”

So if husband gets a horrid whack by accident of course
And his head looks like it got kicked by a horse
Ignore what he may tell you, concussions can be funny
He surely wasn’t punched by me, his sickly little honey.

The Mysterious Journey - Tamar

Holy shit, where am I? What happened?

I woke up this morning to a brand new world. Don’t know what happened when I slept – maybe I died, but this doesn’t look much like heaven to me. And while it’s a bit warmer, it just isn’t hot enough to be the other place. Who knows?

“Hey, you’re new here, aren’t you?”

I turned around, and saw this old-timer, leaning on a stick and squinting at me.

“Yeah – I guess so, but where am I? I don’t even know how I got here.” As I spoke, I realized I was probably still asleep and this was just a crazy dream. A thunder-like roar shook the ground as I spoke, but my new acquaintance seemed not to notice it at all.

"Just a bit farther south, is all,” replied the old guy. “Find a place to squat, but go east or west of here. Here in the south it tends to be a bit of a tight squeeze at times. Actually, the North West is probably the best way for you to go. There’s been a lot of newbies arriving lately, you might even find someone you know there.”

Still puzzled, with tons of questions, I headed in the direction he suggested. Uphill all the way, with a few bumps and hollows here and there, which were great when I needed a rest. The thunder roared sporadically, and even though I couldn't see any rivers, I could hear the merry tinkle of streams and gurgling waterfalls every now and then. Sure enough, after what seemed miles of walking, I saw more weary travellers ahead.

“Hey!” I shouted, “Wait up!”

Imagine my surprise when I caught up to the group and found several folks from home.

“Do you know what’s going on?” I panted.

“No, not really.” I was surprised to see it was actually an old friend of mine who answered, someone who had disappeared two weeks ago. In fact, on closer inspection, I found quite a few familiar faces in the group.

“Don’t mind if I join you guys?” I asked.

“Nah, the more the merrier,” someone called out.

So off we wandered, a slow-moving group of lost folks, united in their common goal of finding a new home in this vast territory.

(Note from author: As you grow older, do you notice the backs of your hands show tendons, veins and arteries more than ever? It’s a scientific fact that the fat that usually pads the backs of these hands tends to disappear with age. Scientists may not know why, or where, it goes, but I have it all figured out. It goes to your butt.)